Snape's Christmas Insanity
by Hasriona 2013
Summary: Snape finds himself having to help Santa in his most crazy adventure since the knight bus incident… (sequel to Long Night on the Knight Bus) (It may be June, but it's never too early, or too late maybe, for a bit of Christmas-fuelled mayhem, which this story mostly is, tbh XD )


Severus Snape was walking sulkily through the Hogsmeade Christmas market on a particularly cold Christmas Eve. The streets were lined with a fresh, but shallow, layer of powdery white snow, crunching under each of Snape's heavy footsteps. Despite the vibrant displays, awash with colour and filled with last minute stocking fillers and presents, none of the Christmas joy had affected Snape in the slightest. He was still being poignantly reminded of the previous Christmas, when he had had to take the Knight Bus in the midst of a snow storm in order to get back to Hogwarts…

"_Yah, SPEED IT UP ERNIE! IT'S GOING TO BE A BUMPY RIDE! BUMPY! BUUUUMPPPPYYYY!"_

Snape shook his head, as if trying to get the memory out of his head.

"Sir! Yes, you sir! You looking for some wonderful presents? I've got some of the finest trinkets this side of Diagon Alley!" said a market seller encouragingly, thrusting a toy plane and a plastic figurine of Dumbledore under his nose.

"No, thank you…" said Snape firmly.

"Buy me, fool!" squeaked the plastic Dumbledore.

Snape swatted the seller out of his way. He was only out in Hogsmeade to escape the sickly Christmas celebrations going on in the castle, not to be thrown head first back into it. The real Dumbledore had gone out of his way to ensure that it was the best Christmas the castle had ever had. He had conjured a piece of tinsel sixteen miles long, which he had threaded throughout the castle the previous evening, giggling as he sprinted from room to room naked and wearing a top hat. It had been quite the disturbing sight.

"Sir, please, there's so many goodies for you to buy here, at discount prices!" called the seller from behind.

"Discount prices motherfucker!" screamed the plastic Dumbledore.

"I'm not buying!" shouted Snape irately.

"How about some choccie, eh?" said the seller, popping up abruptly in front of him, carrying three trays of cheap looking chocolate; Snape almost slipped in the snow.

"No, will you stop –"

"Brazilian imports!" he implored.

"Scrumptious as fuck!" squeaked the plastic Dumbledore.

"Look, don't let me hex you- "

"How about a Hogwarts playset then, complete with characters?" he said brashly, the chocolate boxes spinning into a wild inexplicable blur, which become a small model of Hogwarts castle. Plastic figurines similar to the little annoying Dumbledore were placed in front of it. Snape made out Hagrid, Harry Potter, Dobby and – for some reason – Mr T (Snape had no idea how he knew this).

"Let's have a beach party – in London!" screamed the plastic Harry Potter.

"Dobby wants Christmas bitches!" shouted plastic Dobby.

"First name Mr, middle name 'period', last name T!" screamed Mr T, before viciously eating a small Snickers bar.

Plastic Hagrid just hummed a happy tune, before collapsing and falling asleep.

"Well, that last one was frightfully accurate…" admitted Snape coolly.

"Will you buy it then? Only one-hundred and sixty galleons" asked the seller, grinning from ear to ear.

"Who's going to buy that piece of crap for one-hundred and sixty galleons?" asked Snape incredulously.

"I'll throw in Dumby here!" said the seller, unabashed.

"Marty, I thought we had something special!" said plastic Dumbledore, shedding plastic tears.

"Look, I was just having a walk. Is that too much to ask? I just want a bloody walk to get away from all this bloody Christmas crap, Christmas trees, Christmas songs, Christmas decorations, Christmas _everything_. Can I just have one measly hour in this hellhole of a month to myself, away from a celebration that, for some inexplicable reason, wizards celebrate? Well, can I, you overzealous, overbearing piece of shit?!"

The seller, Marty, was left speechless, as Snape deserted the scene.

"I think he didn't want to buy anything Marty…" he heard the plastic Dumbledore say. "I'm hungry, take me to that miniature KFC in the backroom…"

Snape angrily strode through the quieter streets of Hogsmeade, yearning for a piece of sentimental enjoyment he could partake in, away from all things Christmas.

He then remembered, from one of Dumbledore's Saturday staff parties, the Hogs Head - an unfrequented, rather dull pub on the outskirts of town. The place wouldn't be lavished in Christmas decorations, or thrown over in yuletide spirit; it suited Snape's tastes perfectly. With haste, the black-clad Potions Master set off towards the Hogs Head, bearing in mind to avoid any Christmas markets along the way.

He saw the sign of the pub within a few hundred yards, and increased his pace, only coming to a stop when he heard the surprised yells of a painfully familiar voice.

"Da Greasy Man! My goodness, I haven't seen you since last year, my little ostrich!"

Against all odds, a piece of horrible serendipity had occurred. The exact Shrunken Head that had hung in the Knight Bus had been nailed on a string, with others around it, to the door of the Hogs Head.

"Hey, hey, this is the guy I was telling yoo guys about!" he called. They all snickered.

"What are you doing here?" asked Snape viciously. "Shouldn't you be on the Knight Bus with Shunpike?"

"It's Christmas Eve my little urchin! Stan gave me da weekend off, so I decided to party with ma family!" said the Shrunken Head merrily.

"Some party…" commented Snape, smiling slightly.

"Enough of that tone my little cracker. What brings you here?"

"I was hoping to find some solace in the Hogs Head, if you must know…"

"Da pub is closed for da Winter my little sloth. The owner has flown away to the north pole in order to try to kill Santa Claus, like he always does…"

Snape took a moment to digest what the Shrunken Head had just said.

"He flew to the north pole…to kill…_Santa Claus_?"

"Yah."

"Santa Claus?"

"Yah."

"The non-existent, fairy tale character Santa Claus?"

All the shrunken heads hissed and muttered angrily at his words.

"Greasy man, you don't believe in da Santa Claus?" said the Shrunken Head.

"Crazy fool!" said a female shrunken head irately.

"Shush, wife. I'm sure he don't mean it…" said the Shrunken Head.

"You have a wife?"

"Yah. She my bootiful baby girl-head…"

"What kind of relationship can _heads_ have?"

"Is good relationship, little biscuit. You get plenty of head!"

All the heads broke out in laughter. Snape rolled his eyes.

"But in seriousness now, you were kidding before, right Greasy Man?" asked the Shrunken Head.

"About _Santa Claus_? Of course I wasn't, he's not bloody real at all, what do you take me for?"

The heads gasped in unison.

"But Snape! He is very real! Have you not heard the song?"

"What song?"

Upon saying these words, music suddenly began to play out of nowhere in particular, and the shrunken heads began to jiggle around on their pegs, imitating some form of really weird choreography.

"_You'd better watch out, you'd better not cry, you'd better not pout, I'm telling you why…_" sung one head.

"_Santa Claus is coming to town, my little ostrich_!" sung the Shrunken Head in a deep, chocolate like voice.

"_He's making his list, and checking it twice, he's gonna find out who's naughty and nice…_" sung the head that had been identified as the wife.

"_Santa Claus is coming to town, oh yeah_!" bawled the Shrunken Head. "_He sees you when you're sleeping, and knows when you've awake, he knows if you've been bad or good, so be good for goodness' sake as he might be Jimmy Saville!_"

They laughed and then they all broke out in song:

"_You'd better watch out, you'd better not cry, you'd better not pout, I'm telling you why… Santa Claus is coming to town! Santa Claus is coming to town! And he's…_sweet bitchtits of fuck, he's right _there_!"

Snape turned on the spot, and saw, with utter incomprehension, the sight of a huge sleigh, pulled by several indistinct creatures, flying adjacent to Hogsmeade.

"_HO, HO, HO, MERRY CHRISTMAS BITCHES_!" shouted a distant voice from the sleigh.

"Oh what fresh hell is this?" asked Snape, feeling slightly sick.

"It's Santy Claus!" called one of the heads excitedly. "The song must have called him!"

"Well, it is Christmas Eve, after all!" said another head.

Snape was furiously trying to rationalise the situation, considering possibilities like he was somehow intoxicated, or the sleigh in the air was some kind of giant duck – anything to stop him concluding that what he saw was, somehow, against all reason and logic, the supposed Muggle legend that was-

"SANTY CLAUS - HE IS FALLING!" screamed one of the heads, and Snape was shaken out of his reverie of deniability to see the distant sleigh begin to angle precariously towards the ground.

"HO HO – OH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO…" screamed the distant voice, and, a few seconds later, there was the definitive sound of a distant crash.

"SANTY, NOOOOO!" screamed several heads. "WHY, why did this happen to bootiful Santy Claus!?"

"Greasy Man, go help him!" implored the Shrunken Head.

"Oh no, I am not getting involved in this. I don't know what the hell that thing was, but I'm getting out of here…"

"But you must help Santy Claus! Christmas may be ruined!"

"_HO, HO, HO, CAN SOMEONE CALL THE AA PLEASE_?" echoed the distant voice across the countryside. Plainly, he was still alive.

"Please Greasy Man!"

"No! Santa does not exist!"

"_HO, HO, AND BRING SOME KFC, SANTA NEEDS SOME FINGER LICKERING GOOD_…"

"Fuck, fine! I'll go help him, but he's not Santa Claus, he's probably just some drunkard with a sleigh!"

"Which flies in the air?"

"It's more plausible that the possibility he's Santa Claus!"

"Keep telling yourself that my little greasy panini…"

"But if I'm helping him," said Snape, striding over to the door, "You're coming with me!"

Snape grabbed the Shrunken Head and pulled him from his peg, the other heads mumbling exclamations of outrage.

"OUCH! OUCH! LEMME GO YOU SOGGY TURD! OUCH MY BOOTIFUL FACE!" complained the Shrunken Head, but he was silenced when Snape apparated away to the crash site about a mile away from the Hogsmeade boundaries.

"Ugh, I always hated apparition. WHY DID YOU TAKE ME YOU GREASY BASTARD?" screamed the head when they had appeared in a distant, dark, leafy field, the lights of Hogsmeade twinkling in the distance next to the beacon that was Hogwarts.

"Is someone there?" called a jolly voice.

Snape, carrying the Shrunken Head in his right hand, passed through a nearby thicket to see the astonishing site of a thirty-metre sleigh sprawled across the hardened ground. It was relatively intact, despite the crash, but there were small parcels scattered across the frosty grass. On closer inspection, they were presents.

"Hello?" called Snape.

"SANTY CLAUS?" shouted the Shrunken Head.

"Yes, it is I, the great Santa Claus…" said the jolly voice again, and an enormous figure (almost as big as Hagrid) raised himself from the main cockpit of the sleigh, dressed all in red, with an enormous white beard that could rival even Dumbledore's. "I am the purveyor of giving at Yuletide, the bringer of joy and love at this special and idiosyncratic time of year, the age old judicious saint of selflessness, wisdom and compassion-."

Santa – Snape now acknowledging the reality of this man – broke off, as he had tripped over the edge of his sleigh

"SON OF A GUM-CHEWING FUNK MONSTER! WHY THE FUCK DOES ALL THIS FUCKING STUFF HAPPEN TO ME! FUCK MY LIFE! ALWAYS SURROUNDED BY MISERABLE FAILING CLODS, LIKE THIS WHOLE WORLD LIKES TO BEND ME OVER AND FIND ME IN THE ALPS! LIKE I'M SOME SORT OF SLOP RECEPTACLE! WELL AS FAR AS I CARE, THESE MISERABLE COWS CAN HAVE A FANCY BARBECUE WITH A GODDAMN PIG!" Santa shouted.

"Are you…okay?" asked Snape.

"DID YOU CALL THE AA?" demanded Santa.

"Well, no, I don't have a phone-"

"DID YOU GET ME SOME KENTUCKY FRIED GOODNESS?"

"There's no KFC in Hogsmeade!"

"USELESS PIECE OF CHINESE FISHPAPER!"

"Uh…what?"

"Santy Claus, why happened to your wonderful sleigh?" asked the Shrunken Head from Snape's palm.

"SOME FAGGOT FIRED A RPG AT ME!"

"Who?"

"I dunno, some guy with an RPG launcher…"

"I gathered that you jolly fuck, can you get your 'sleigh' working again, so you can get the fuck out of my life and I can get to some well needed therapy…"

"A little bit of Santy Claus magic should be all it needs…" he said, puffin up. "WORK YOU PIECE OF TOBLERONE SHIT…"

The Sleigh rose a foot into the air.

"Brilliant, now I can go fuck over the kids – OH MY GOD THE RPG GUY IS HERE!"

Snape turned to see the familiar owner of the Hogs Head standing by the nearest hedge, dressed in camouflage-coloured clothes with a balaclava draped across his head, carrying an RPG in one hand and a MP5 in the other (again, Snape had no idea how he knew this).

"Finally, you fat fuck, I can kill you and take my revenge!"

"Now, let's ho-ho-slow down here…"

"No, it's time for you to pay the price. DIEEEEE!"

Snape ducked, and the Shrunken Head whimpered, but nothing happened. A few seconds passed, and there was a sudden deep thud. Snape looked up to see the owner of the Hogs Head face first in the snow. Dumbledore, naked as fuck, stood behind him with a sherry bottle.

"Crazy ass bitch…" muttered Dumbledore. "I have seen some serious shit…"

"Dumbledore my nigga!" said Santa joyfully, rushing over and chest-bumping Albus.

"Wha's crackalacking homie?"

"DUMBLEDORE? What are you doing here?" asked Snape incredulously.

"My Christmas stroll, of course. I saw what happened to my bitchnigga here and had to come. Poor Aberforth, he never forgave you for not given him that pony when he was seven…"

"I gave him a pub, what more does he want? Prick…" said Santa, kicking Aberforth's unconscious body, which then preceded to fly into space.

"Dafuq…just happened…" said Snape, who then fainted from the cumulative shock. The Shrunken Head rolled out of his hand and ended up at Dumbledore's feet.

"OH PWEASE HELP DUMBLEDORE…"

"Oh, this would look brilliant on my penis…" said Dumbledore, who then proceeded to put the Shrunken Head into his pants. The Shrunken Head was surprisingly ok with this.

"What should we do with the greasy one here?" asked Santa.

"Oh, can you put him back into his bed in the castle? That way he'll think it's all a dream…"

"Can do…gotta bounce Dumbs, see you next year!"

"See ya, Santy Claus!"

And with that, Santa Claus left with the unconscious body of Snape, and Dumbledore turned back to the castle, humming a peaceful lullaby as Aberforth burnt up in the upper atmosphere, causing a orange flash to burn across the sky.

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!" called Dumbledore, and then left the village of Hogsmeade.


End file.
